


Fives times everyone knew that Clint is married to Natasha, except Clint

by Ruquas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comedy, Depressed Clint Barton, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Missions, Misunderstandings, References to Depression, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruquas/pseuds/Ruquas
Summary: Clint wasn't married to Nat. Except, everyone else thought so.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85
Collections: Charity Hawktion 2020





	1. Coulson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starjargon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starjargon/gifts).



> Written for StarJargon, who won this fic in the Hawktion <3
> 
> I hope you like it.

SHIELD was a strange work place if Clint ever knew one. And sure, he didn’t knew much of work places. But he was still pretty certain that it wasn't common for someone to come up, clasp you on your shoulder and congratulate you on surviving your first year.

Sure, what first year the agent referred to he didn’t know and when he asked, the Agent just laughed and walked away. Clint stared a bit, but then shrugged it off. He had a meeting to go (look at him, all responsible for things) and he was going to go even though he already hated everything to do with it, just out of spite. He really just wanted to go back to bed, maybe cuddle with Lucky, and eat cold pizza.

He ignored the creepy smile Sitwell threw him and the confused look Hill threw into his direction on his way to the meeting.It wasn’t unusual that they looked at him funny. He was, after all, a dumpster fire. And well, he knew he hadn’t showered in two weeks and probably not only looked like it but also smelled like it. His clothes had seen better days, too.

But they’d never looked at him _that_ funny before. It was as if he’d forgotten something important. As if he shouldn’t be here (no, not that. They had looked at him like that in the beginning, and those had been other looks).

Clint stepped into the lift and was very proud of himself that he waited until the doors closed before he looked down on himself. Wearing clothes, check. Wearing pants that weren’t ripped in places they shouldn’t be, check. He looked into the mirror, but nothing unusual there, either.

Clint decided that SHIELD was just stranger than usual today and was very glad when the lift opened and Natasha got in, barely glancing his way.

“People are weird.” Clint complained, not surprised that Natasha doesn’t even try to produce some kind of expression on her face. That wasn’t her thing.

“Really?”, she asked instead, still looking ahead. 

“You reek.”

Clint blinked and laughed a few seconds later.

“Yeah. Maybe. Not the best of days.”, he admitted. It was Nat. She wouldn’t rat him out. At least as long he wasn’t endangering a mission. Or himself. Or other Agents. Again.

“No. Certainly not. You remembered to feed Lucky?”

Clint would’ve felt insulted if it hadn’t been getting harder and harder to manage everything over the last few days. But today, he had done that!

“Yes!” Clint exclaimed proudly.

“I even went outside with him _and_ put laundry in a machine. Okay, I didn’t turn it on, but in theory, _I could_.”

Nat’s mouth twitched slightly, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Good. You need me to turn it on?”

From everyone else, Clint would think it was mockery. From Nat, though… well, it was only partly mockery.

“Maybe. Bring food if you do.”

He didn’t add that he forgot to buy human food last week.

Nat just nodded, stepped towards the doors and they slid open as if on command. Clint was always astonished how she did that.

He was glad that it was only Coulson and Fury in the meeting room for now. He was glad that Coulson only looked slightly irritated at his clothes and Fury… well, he always looked as if Clint had just done _something_ , so Clint wasn’t going to put too much thought in it.

The looks other people threw him (and seriously, having Hill look at him as if he’d gone crazy was frightening) got ignored. He didn’t have the time for everything.

After the meeting, he just stood up and walked out the door. Coulson knew how to reach him anyway, after all. Since he didn’t get called back, he figured Coulson was at least okay with Clint disappearing. So he went home.

He ignored the other people who looked at him or his clothes. Ignored the strange looks people in the subway gave him. Ignored the understanding look in the old eyes of Miss Tamelia’s eyes.

Clint just went into his apartment, pet Lucky and fell face first on the couch.

When his mobile pinged, he was a bit proud of himself for looking at it.

_You know this isn’t fair to Natasha, right?_

Clint liked Coulson. But on days like this, he wanted to throw him out of a window. But then, knowing his luck, he would survive it and would drown Clint in either training or paperwork.

_**Yes. But she offered.** _

Clint could practically _see_ the resigned look on Coulson’s face. But if Nat wasn’t okay with coming here, then she wouldn’t have offered.

_**Sure.** _

Nothing more. And then someone knocked and Lucky went wild and Clint remembered that Nat never just came into his apartment without permission. 

He should get her a key. A key was a permanent permission, right? 

“You could open the door yourself, you know?” Clint greeted her, relieved when he not only spotted a bag with healthy food (ick… but well, probably better for him… whatever) but also a very big, wonderful smelling box of pizza.

Lucky barked from the living room.

“Sure. You need to air this dump out. You do that and I put away the groceries.”

Clint knew she only did that because she wanted to make sure there were clean dishes. Which… there probably weren’t. He couldn’t remember if he turned on the dishwater yesterday. He was just tired.

Neither he nor Nat were surprised that his eyes were already drooping when she sat on the couch, even though the pizza was still smelling delicious. 

“Eat first.”

Clint took it as the order it was, secretly glad that Nat didn’t mind watching his spanish soap opera while eating greasy things she usually avoided. Even if she was feeding most of it to Lucky.

It didn’t surprise him either when he woke up and it was not only quiet, but also dark. And he had a blanket thrown over him. He could see light from the bedroom and a glance at the clock told him that it was barely past midnight. The light probably came from Natasha, reading something or just staring at the wall. Sometimes, she did that.

Clint sighed and got himself a glass of water (because, yes, he drank something other than coffee, thank you very much) and sat down on the couch again. He could join Nat. Maybe. It would be nice to sleep next to someone.

The blinking of his phone caught his eye.

_**Anyway, happy anniversary. For both of you. No matter how you spend it.** _

Clint frowned at Coulson’s message. What the hell did that mean? Maybe the message wasn’t meant for Clint. It probably wasn’t. He sighed and stood up, draining the glass of water and bringing it back to the kitchen before joining Nat in the bedroom.

She didn’t look up from her book.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks. Still weird day.”

She made an agreeing sound, only turning down the lights a bit when he laid down again to sleep.


	2. Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because yesterday was... let's say stressful, you get the chapter from yesterday today <3

If there was one thing Clint really, really _really_ hated, it would be aliens.

Well, not all the aliens. Just the slimy, green ones. And yellow ones. And blue ones… maybe just all the slimy ones. Yeah, that sounded about right.

He really hated all the slimy aliens that thought it would be a great idea to invade the world. And not somewhere like New York, or Munich or Novosibirsk. No, it had to be fucking Tripura, in fucking India where it’s over 100 degrees and fucking humid.

Who the fuck decides that _Tripura, India_ would be a good place to start the invasion of the world?

Clint sighed and shot another of the explosive arrows to one of the Slimys, watching it explode, coating a few more buildings in a strange yellowish-brown.

“I have reports of those things in Timbuktu.” Tony yelled over the comms, getting splashed by a blue Slimy.

“Timbuk… are you fucking kidding me?”

Steve. Hell, even _Steve_ was fucked up about those things.

“Clint, arrow!” Bucky yelled and Clint didn’t have the time anymore to follow Tony’s report on where the Slimys had been seen. He just shot the next one, watching it explode right on Bucky.

He chuckled, ignoring the cursing he got from the sniper.

~*~*~

As it turned out, those things just liked the warmth. It didn’t even need to be humid. It was just easier to let them explode if it was humid enough.

In the last two days, Clint had seen countries and cities he had never seen before, some cities he hadn’t even heard of before. Had been to other cities and countries he had sworn to avoid.

And now, he just looked like everyone else, full of slimy goo that was in various states of drying and he felt disgusting.

It didn’t help to improve his mood that, even before he could start undressing, the alarm was blaring again.

“I hate my life.”

~*~*~

“Why are they now in _Winnipeg?_ ” Bucky yelled, trying to avoid an ice Slimy. A literal ice Slimy.

“It’s not warm here.”

“Really, Sherlock?” Clint murmured and shot the first arrow, howling when it just fell out of the Slimy again, frozen. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t celebrate at home where it’s warm! Also, you complained about the warm regions, so shut it!”

“These don’t care for the electric arrows! And for god’s sake, I didn’t meant to go to fucking _Winnipeg_ ” Clint cursed and started to look for somewhere, anywhere to flee from the Slimy that now slowly started to make its way towards him, while trying to figure out what he should ne celebrating. He hadn’t forgotten his birthday. Clint was certain of that. One, it was September. Second, he never celebrated his birthday, which decidedly was not in September.

“They aren’t defeated by Mjolnir, either.” Thor’s voice boomed even without the comms. Why the hell had they given him a comm? That was as bad an idea as giving the Hulk a comm.

“Hacking the way through… well, don’t know if it helps, but it’s not effective.” Steve said, sounding almost sad that they couldn’t just hack their way through those things.

“Yellowknife has a few sightings that only need to be confirmed, guys, so we need a fast sol… aaaand confirmed. Any ideas?”

“Fire doesn’t work.” Natasha’s way too calm voice came over the comms, making them all curse.

In the end, it was a mistake from Thor that gave them the solution. And well, no one would have thought that putting the ice Slimeys into water would just… dissolve them into nothing.

How was that Clint’s life?!

~*~*~

Clint was wary when they landed at the tower again. He could see that they all were wary. Natasha didn’t play with her knife. Bucky just stared straight ahead, clearly still caught up between the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. Tony and Steve were still shaking, both of them hating the cold. Thor just looked indifferent, but for once not to be in the mood to celebrate their victory.

But then, it had been five days. Five days without real rest. Five days with new Slimys in hot and cold regions. And they all were exhausted. It wasn’t just from the different climates and the fights or staying awake for longer than they should, but that certainly didn’t help.

Clint sighed and started to walk towards the lift when a big hand landed on his shoulder.

Thor.

“I’m not in the mood to celebrate anything, buddy.” Clint said, surprised that the words weren’t slurred.

“I just wanted to express my regret that you and Lady Natasha couldn’t celebrate your day without any interruptions.” Thor said, sounding as if someone had kicked his puppy before he walked away. Steve and Tony nodded before they took one of the lifts upstairs. Bucky still stared straight ahead.

Only a few minutes after standing there, Clint shook his head. What the hell was _that?_

“You gonna take roots here?” Natasha asked, clearly as exhausted as Clint.

“Hu? No… no.”

Natasha nodded and walked towards the lift, pulling Clint after her.

“Hey. We have some kind of anniversary? Thor said something like that?” Clint asked and hoped that he hadn’t forgotten anything. But he met her in March the first time, and brought her to SHIELD in December. So, maybe something different that he forgot? When was her birthday? Did she even _had_ a birthday?

“No. Shower. Food. Sleep.”

Clint couldn’t blame her for being short with him. He really wanted those things, too, after all.


	3. Loki

If anyone ever asked Clint how _Loki_ became a guest who just came and went with the Avengers, Clint wouldn’t have known how to answer. Because he didn’t know how it happened. He had a mission and when he came back, Loki was there, watching a soap opera with Tony, looking amused as the engineer yelled at the TV for apparently someone cheating on someone else with their daughter who wasn’t their daughter in the first place.

It took Clint time to get used to it.

In fact, it was still strange.

What was even stranger though was the way Loki just stared at him one day. No matter where Clint went, usually Loki’s eyes would follow him.

And it didn’t stop. Neither on that day, nor the day after.

It was a bit unnerving. Unnerving enough that Clint eventually whirled around and pointed at Loki.

“Stop that! Whatever you do, fucking stop it!”

Loki raised an eyebrow, remaining silent. Sam just stared at Clint as if he’d grown a second head.

It didn’t matter, Clint decided when he stormed out of the kitchen. Still feeling kind of watched, but Loki was nowhere to be seen.

~*~*~

“Loki’s a creep.” Clint said one day while sparing with Natasha. Natasha looked at Clint as if he lost his mind, and yes, maybe she was right, that statement was a bit obvious, but he made his point.

“I mean, he’s just staring at me the last few days. Almost as if he’s plotting something. Is he plotting something? Please tell me he’s not plotting something.” Clint almost begged while rolling out from under Natasha, kicking her legs out from under her.

“It’s Loki. He’s always plotting something. And I don’t see why I should know what he’s plotting.” Natasha grunted, throwing a fucking _medicine ball_ at him. No one can tell him that she’s just a human. No-fucking-one.

“Yes, but why is he staring at me while he does it?”

“Because Thor would think Loki’s gonna kill him if Loki stares at him? Don’t know, ask him.”

Clint started to laugh and was still laughing when Natasha kicked him to the ground.

~*~*~

Loki still stared at Clint. Just not that much anymore. And he always looked thoughtful. Which creeped Clint out even more than before.

But at least Loki looked at Natasha, too, so maybe he was just trying to creep them out.

It was working. At least for Clint. Why anyone would try to creep out Natasha was way beyond him.

“You’re a creep.” Clint finally decided to say when Loki watched him while he made himself some popcorn (because corn was a veggie, so it absolutely counted as a healthy snack!). 

When he turned away, Loki grinned at him and vanished before Clint’s eyes.

Absolutely not dramatic. Never.

~*~*~

The first indication that Loki (finally!) did something was - flowers. 

Actually, Natasha’s favourite flowers (of course she pretended she didn’t like any flower more than the other... but she did). Some strange things only grow somewhere in South Asia.

But it was Natasha’s birthday (which she also denied having and he only found out because he made big puppy eyes at Tony) and he couldn’t find anything and the flowers didn’t have a tag on them or anything. Just laying there in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if he took them.

And based on Natasha’s pleased look, he did the right thing. It was a wonderful sight after all. And she made them Pryanik, so definitely worth whoever’s wrath he may have to face.

~*~*~

The second thing that was slightly off was, when a few days later, there was Ukha in the kitchen.

No one liked Ukha except Natasha. But she was in a foul mood and therefore hadn’t made it. She needed to be in a good mood to cook.

Well, whoever made it could probably spare a bowl for Nat.

The way Natasha’s eyes widened when she realized what in the bowl was a bit frightening. But she invited him to watch some strange documentary about deep sea fish (creepy…), so it was okay.

~*~*~

The third time, and the first time Clint actually suspected that Loki was involved was when there hadn’t been one single Avenger mission in weeks.

_Weeks._

Everyone was suspicious. Really suspicious. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I don’t know what the problem is.” Loki said and Clint just knew that Loki had something to do with it.

“You! What did you do?” Clint almost yelled, climbing over the couch to get to Loki. Of course that bastard had to disappear and reappear a few feet away.

“And here I thought it would do you and your… what do you call it here? Wife? Mate? Well, that it would do you some good to have a bit of time with each other. Especially this time of the year. Correct me if I am wrong, Barton.”

Clint stared at Loki, certain that he had finally lost his mind.

“What wife?”

Loki raised an eyebrow and didn’t look impressed. Quite the opposite. 

“Yours, apparently.”

“I am not married.”

Loki still looked at Clint as if _Clint_ was the one saying stupid things in this scenario.

“Sure. Whatever you and Miss Romanov need to tell each other.”

Clint laughed. Loki didn’t.

“We are not married.” Clint repeated again, very slowly. Sometimes, people needed a bit longer to understand things… He just didn’t thought that Loki was one of them.

Loki made a strange humming sound and then his mouth twitched.

“Sure. Like I said, whatever you need to tell yourself. You maybe should keep her company, anyway.”

Clint stared at Loki when he vanished into a bit of smoke, a trick he absolutely adored and hated since he had lived at the circus. 

He didn’t want to listen to Loki. He really didn’t. But then, he didn’t have to listen to this nonsense about marriage, right? But if there was a chance that there was something wrong with Natasha and he could help, maybe… well, what kind of friend would he be to not help her? Especially after all those times when Natasha had just come to his apartment and made him food, airing out two week old air and the smell of stale and moldy pizza.

Clint was still a bit disturbed when he walked into a dark room. Or almost dark.

“They need me?” Natasha asked, curled up on her bed, a wrist bound to her bedpost.

Clint knew that one. Had seen it in a file about the red room.

“No. Just had a feeling. You want company?”

“Yes. But stay away.”

Clint sat down on the armchair. He could still see her and Nat could still see him, but otherwise, there was no communication.

Well, even if Loki finally went nuts, it was good that Clint was here now.


	4. Pepper

Pepper Potts was one hell of a woman.

If anyone would have asked Clint before he met Pepper if there would ever be another person on his secret _’Never let them take over the world, but if they do play nice’_ list, he would have laughed. Who would be able to join Hill, Nat and Melinda May? Right. No one.

Except that woman in her sharp buisness suit, with her red hair and her freckles, who looked cute as fuck and threatened a SHIELD agent by stating that she would put her stiletto through his balls if he ever touched her again, thank you very much and have a nice day.

Later, he learned she was Tony’s… something, and worked her way up from somewhere she never mentioned to be the CEO of Stark industries.

So, Pepper Potts landed on the list even before he officially met her. And she was just like the other three women - if you got to know her and played nice, she was awesome. Creepy, but so awesome!

Which was a reason he was very very confused when one day, Pepper just told him that it would be Tony’s and her anniversary in three weeks and that she made a reservation for four people, wouldn’t it be nice if Natasha and Clint would join them? And no, it would be nice to go out with someone who could understand and Tony would forget three times that it had been their anniversary already and would ask her out for a fancy apology-dinner anyway.

So he did the only logical thing and told Pepper he would ask Nat. Which seemed to be a good answer, because Pepper just nodded and went on about something else Clint lost track of.

~*~*~

Clint asked Natasha three days later, still very confused why Pepper would ask them to dinner. Wouldn’t another couple be a better idea?

Natasha just looked at Clint as if he was stupid (okay, a bit more stupid than on other days) until he raised his hands and told her that he would give Pepper their okay.

Pepper smiled when he told her, telling him that it would be a bit classier, so a few nice clothes would be a good idea.

Clint nodded and walked to the range, still trying to find out why Pepper would think Natasha and he would be good companions, especially at a classy restaurant. Especially why _Clint_ would be a good idea.

Maybe they wanted something kinky?

But then, neither Tony nor Pepper seemed to be the people who would be flustered to just ask. 

Natasha actually laughed at him when he asked her that, but got a gleam in her eyes when he told her that a few nice clothes should be worn.

Natasha would never tell that to anyone, but she loved to dress up just for herself. Not for a mission, though.

And before he could even think it, Natasha already told him they would need to buy a tux for Clint, because no, obviously he couldn’t wear the ones SHIELD provided.

“They look good on Coulson!” Clint tried to protest, but Natasha just raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. But you are not Coulson.”

Clint nodded and didn’t dare to argue further.

~*~*~

The guy at the entrance looked at Clint a bit as if he was crazy, which was true, but hopefully not obvious. Natasha though, she looked perfect; as if she belonged here, as if this was way under her standards.

“I don’t think it’s nice to stare at someone’s hearing aids.” Tony declared loudly from across the room. Everyone turned around to look at them and the entrance-guy started to become as red as a tomato. Clint almost snorted, but that was probably against some social rule here. Also, he took pity on the guy, because yes, probably purple hearing aids weren’t that common here.

It was awkward at first, but then Tony started talking to no one in particular. Natasha and Pepper started talking about something Clint didn’t even pretend to understand and after a few minutes he showed Tony a few new pictures of Lucky.

The food was nice, too. Not much, and certainly not enough to be filling, but nice. Natasha promised him between the main course and dessert that they could get a pizza on their way home.

Clint was absolutely certain that he loved that woman!

Pepper just smiled as if she knew something Clint didn’t. Which was true, but it was still a bit unnerving.

And only when they all stepped out of the restaurant, finally getting some air again because restaurants like that never had windows that opened, only air conditioning which wasn’t the same, Clint felt as if the evening had been fun.

“It was great to share this with someone who understands. Thank you. We should do that again.” Pepper said and Natasha smiled, a real smile.

“Anytime, Pepper. But maybe somewhere where Clint won’t complain about the food.”

“But it’s not our anniversary?” Clint blurted out, making Pepper laugh.

“So? It’s not ours either…. right?” Tony asked and Pepper laughed a bit more, shaking her head and kissing Tony on the cheek, leaving him confused and so obviously in love it almost hurt to watch.

Natasha just shook her head.

“No, it’s not. Have a nice evening, I think air will do Clint good.”

Clint would have been insulted, but then they walked by his favorite pizza joint, where they sat down and ate a pizza each in their nice clothes, talking with the waitress and the owner, ignoring the strange looks people gave them.

By the time they went into Clint’s flat (aired out, look at him, being an adult!) he had almost forgotten the strange behaviour from Pepper.

She could take over the world. She was bound to be a little strange.


	5. Natasha

Clint didn’t deserve Natasha. He knew that, she knew that, everyone else knew that.

Natasha was still here though, in his stuffy apartment, airing it out and doing something incredibly awesome in his kitchen and Clint loved her for it. It smelled delicious and she didn’t scold him for barely being able to put the laundry into the washing machine.

It had been a hard week. Their latest mission wasn’t against aliens, which they realized way too late. Only when Clint and Tony were standing in a room with children. A lot of half naked, frightened children.

Clint didn’t think less of Tony because he turned around right away and puked his guts out. That guy had been a weapon dealer. He never really had to do something with… these kinds of things. If anything, Clint thought worse of himself because he only asked himself how they could get clients while looking as half-starved as they probably were.

The meeting that followed though, that was hell. And yes, maybe Clint was suspended from work for a few weeks (because people didn’t know it, but Fury could be a godsend if he wanted to be, everyone else would have Clint seen fired) for punching some ass who demanded to know why their highest priority had been the children and not the fucking alien tech in that building.

And to make everything worse, Simone told Clint that there were a few dubious looking men lingering near the apartment building.

And he shouldn’t forget the fact that he hadn’t done laundry in like, two months, hadn’t opened a window in six weeks, didn’t know when he had last changed the sheets and hadn’t had a hot meal in the last few weeks either.

“You are a disaster. Also, it’s good that I bought what I need and brought it, because I think your fridge started a new stage of evolution. Bring me the disinfectant, would you?”

He should do it. It was his fridge. His kitchen. His apartment. His building. But then Nat would start to tidy up the living room (again), or more precisely throw out everything that could or was already rotting (again). And compared to the fridge… well, he would need to put in a new rug, probably. Maybe hardwood. Can hardwood get moldy? Probably not… but it could rot, Clint knew that.

Without another thought he went into the bathroom where Natasha usually kept the cleaning supplies (and wasn’t that sad that Natasha put them here?), got the disinfectant and ignored the stains in his bathtub before walking into the kitchen, seeing for the first time that it was a meat sauce that smelled so wonderful. Already on the counter (a clean one, and he asked himself again how Natasha managed that while cooking and how he managed to be allowed to keep Natasha) was an oven dish he didn’t know he owned and probably didn’t, already prepared with lasagna noodles.

He put the disinfectant down next to it and hugged Natasha from behind, breathing in her smell.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

“We are.” Natasha said and moved with a towel, a trash bag and the disinfect to the fridge, not caring that Clint was still kind of plastered to her back. She opened it (and yes, Clint was astonished how a fridge could _smell_ like that) and just put everything in it into the bag before she started wiping it out.

“Go, clean up your bedroom. Change the sheets first before Sweeping . Otherwise you will have to repeat it.”

Clint nodded and detangled himself from Natasha, throwing a last longing look at the meatsauce before following Natasha’s order.

Changing the sheets wasn’t difficult. Sweeping wasn’t difficult… okay, getting through the things that piled up was a bit difficult but hey, at least he could tell himself then that Nat didn’t do everything alone!

~*~*~

Later, when Clint sat down on his now clean couch in his now… well, not clean, but a lot cleaner living room, he felt exhausted.

He was even sweating and felt a bit pathetic, sitting here, sweating and exhausted and tired while Natasha still looked perfect.

She just pushed a plate with lasagna in his hands, her own plate sitting untouched on the coffee table in front of the couch. After he inhaled his share, she wordlessly handed him her plate, getting up to get herself a new piece. 

“Seriously, please marry me. I am a dumpster and you still care and I can’t give you anything except love and gratefulness and…well… not much.”

He didn’t look up from his plate, not wanting to see the hidden scowl. But when he did, there was only a small smile, a real one.

“Seriously, we are. And you are rich.”

Well, that hadn’t been a no, so Clint was content to wait. He could be patient if needed. He was good at waiting until everything would either blow up or until he could make his shot.


	6. Clint

Clint absolutely hated paperwork.

There was literally nothing on this whole wide world, probably not even in the whole wide galaxy and worlds Strange could summon that Clint hated as much as paperwork.

He could handle aliens and human trafficking. He could handle good people dying and he could handle bad people dying even better. He could handle the strangest situations (like a talking racoon!) just like the most boring ones (yes, just lying around in a house, waiting for their subject to do something was boring as fuck, even if it sounded like heaven).

There was absolutely no reason why he had to do taxes! He was a superhero. He saved the world on a regular basis and managed to be a half-way decent person to look up to for young people.

Why did he have to do taxes?

“Stop complaining, Clint. It’s not my fault the last three people we paid to help you left because you basically wrote ‘Awesome stuff’ on work expenses. Neither is it my fault that you waited until the day before you have to hand them in.” Coulson said, not even looking up. Asshole had probably done his taxes months ago during a workout or something similarly stupid.

Then he saw the best thing ever.

Clint sprung up and almost stumbled over to Coulson’s table, showing him the pre-filled information from HR:

“See? I can’t fill them in. They made a mistake!”

Coulson sighed and looked at the form before raising his eyebrow and standing up.

“There’s no mistake on it, Clint. Now, I have a meeting and then I would like to go home. You are an adult. Just fill it in so we can send it to the right department and pretend you are just another boring office clerk just like everyone else, okay?”

Clint frowned, nodding slightly and then the door fell shut. They made a mistake. He wasn’t married. Even he knew that it could make a big difference in taxes. Especially if you had to fill in a form about your spouse without knowing them.

~*~*~

“What do you mean, those are the correct forms? That’s impossible!” Clint almost yelled into the phone. The poor guy on the other end wasn’t the one to blame. But still, Clint really wanted to strangle him. Or hit him. Something. He hated phone calls.

“Mr. Barton, you received the correct forms we need to send in. I can’t see anything wrong in them.”

“They say that I am married. They say that I have to fill in information about someone I don’t know.”

There was an absolute silence for about three seconds where Clint was sure the guy had just muted himself to scream. 

“Mr. Barton, we have a marriage certificate from you, indicating the marriage to Natasha Romanov, born Romanova. If you got a divorce, please send in the certificate you got and we will send you the co…”

Clint hung up and stared at the phone.

That couldn’t be true. They were shitting him.

Clnt sprung up and ran to Natasha’s room, not even bothering to wait for her reply to enter. She looked sleepy. Sure, she was pointing a gun at him, but still sleepy.

“What the hell?” 

“Your name is Romanov!”

Natasha looked at him as if he finally went crazy enough to be recognized as a mad man.

“I mean, it was Romanova!”

“....Yes. That is correct.” Natasha said slowly, in that voice she sometimes used for Steve.

“Why did you change it?”

“I like the tradition. When you marry, you lose the A that indicates you are not married.”

“... are _we_ married?!”

Natasha stared at him, put her gun on her nightstand and laid back in her bed, turning off the light.

“Yes. Don’t wake me up for stupid things again.”

Clint continued to stare at her even after Natasha was asleep again. 

How the fuck hadn’t he known that? How the fuck did fucking HR knew before him?


	7. How it actually happened

If it wasn’t so very sorry, it would be funny.

It wasn’t funny. 

“Why us?” Clint complained loudly. Fury didn’t look impressed. May didn’t look impressed. Neither did Coulson nor Nat.

They all were robots. Clint was sure of it.

“Because, as you may have realized, Agent May broke her left leg, Agent Barton. She is nowhere in a state to handle this mission. As we already established Coulson and May as a couple, she can’t just marry someone ele. So, you and Romanova it will be. Don't worry, HR will handle everything.”

Clint groaned, leaning back in his chair, tipping it back on it’s legs.

“Neither of us are romantic. What kind of wedding will it be? Pizza and beer?”

Clint could swear he saw Natasha’s mouth twitching.

“I think Agent Romanova and I will come up with something.” Coulson said, giving Clint a gentle pat.

Clint didn’t dare to sigh. May would kill him with a spoon if she ever got the chance. And he was certain that the chance never came because deep down, May was lazy as fuck.

~*~*~

Clint hated suits. He hated tuxedos. Basically, he hated all the clothing where he had to wear more than a shirt and jeans. 

“Try not to be… you. Or at least think of an excuse as to why you’re acting as if someone put poisonous spiders in those trousers.” Coulson murmured, pretending to fix Clint’s tie.

Clint knew around thirteen ways to kill someone with a tie. He was certain Coulson knew at least double without thinking about it.

“Hello. May I help you?”, a female voice behind Clint suddenly asked and Clint was proud to say that he didn’t yelp or flinch. Coulson’s amused look lied.

“Yes, please. My friend here, his girlfriend finally took pity on him and said yes. And we can’t really find something that….” Coulson started talking suit-business with the lady they both knew was the daughter of some clan leader.

In the meantime, Clint wandered off, looking for any other suspects while pretending to look at suits. Pocketing a small bottle of perfume from the women’s section he knew Natasha would love.

~*~*~

“...kiss the bride.”

When they kissed, it was perfect. Clint felt content and happy, something that hadn’t happened for quite a long time now.

Sure, in an hour or two, they would need to run and shoot and try not to get killed. But for now, it was everything he wanted to have. For now, the way Nat smiled at him, the twinkle in her eyes, was perfect and made him wish, at least for a second, that it was real.


End file.
